Monster
by ackleswantsasnackles
Summary: A poem about Nico di Angelo. Trigger Warnings: Suicide, Major Character Death


Disclaimer: I do not own PJO or any of its characters

A/N: Sooooooooooooo... Um... I was looking through the files of my old computer and found this. It's really depressing, and there's suicide at the end, so trigger warnings I guess... Now I have to explain it, because it's a poem and therefore doesn't make any sense unless you read this part (at least, in my opinion). I didn't really include names, but I changed the genders around a bit and made it so that the protagonist is Nico (the "dark one"). The boy at the beginning is Percy (the "sea-green eyes"), and Annabeth is "the girl," never really characterized. The idea is that Percy and Annabeth found out that Nico was gay and had a crush on Percy, but in a skewed way, probably that Nico was plotting to break them up (which isn't true, Nico is my baby and I would never let him do anything like that). So Percy's really hurt and Annabeth's just furious. So Percy's talking with Nico first and then Annabeth comes in and yells at him, but what they don't know is how on-the-brink Nico is, and they unknowingly (in their blind, emotional rage) send him over the edge (which is why there's suicide at the end, but just so you know, it's not, like, in gory detail or anything. No blood. No sharp objects, either). I want to edit this and make it better, because I feel that this could be really cool, but I'm not sure where to start, so reviews are always super helpful!

Monster

Tears streak down the boy's face

diamonds and pearls dripping onto the counter

his face flushed, sea-green eyes puffy,

voice creaking and cracking as he speaks

the dark one's face is expressionless

the poker face he's practiced so much, knows so well

underneath, turmoil erupts

bubbling, boiling anger, sweeping sadness, loathing

only of himself, of course

those sea-green eyes could never do wrong

but he keeps his face straight

listens . . .

the girl enters the room,

anger a boiling vat of oil

sputtering

hissing

crackling

the boy's shoulders tense

his emotions shut off abruptly

his spine goes rigid as a plank of wood

don't meet her eyes

when she speaks

don't cry, don't cry, don't you dare cry

take her words

let them hurt

let them burn your skin and boil your blood

shatter your bones and split your heart down the middle

go empty inside

do they even know what they're doing?

his heart shrivels away

the blank face isn't an act now

the world is stark and barren

no one to save him now

her voice cuts through the air

piercing like knives

wounding like knives

hurting like knives

don't show weakness

don't give the vultures an opening

don't let them slip in

cut your losses

so they can't hurt you like this again

he keeps his words to himself

biting his lip savagely

focus on the pain

use it to avoid the tears

to keep the words from bursting out your mouth

leave the room

yells for him to come back

he doesn't look back

doesn't know what to feel

hopes not feeling anything doesn't mean

he's dead inside

his feet pad on the gravel road

retreat, retreat, there is no victory

no treaty to be made

the war is too far gone

sit against the cabin door

his dead heart pounding dully

there is nothing in his mind

no regret, no sorrow, no nothing

not anymore

they are not there for him

all the times they swore—

No.

closes his eyes

takes a deep, shuddering breath

alone,

a fragile sculpture of glass

so vulnerable

he hates his weakness

so he slides the guilt off his face

straightens his posture

swallows the words of apology

he'd ventured onto the battlefield to pronounce

not that he was ever given a chance

to say them

too late now

he left the battlefield

a lost little boy

no one willing to hold him

So he dons his armor once again

Walls around his thoughts

Iron-clad in armor

He cannot be hurt now

He is safe

But what is safe?

Loneliness, emptiness

Is that safe?

their angry voices rising up from below

taunting, teasing, haunting, infuriating

they are putting on a show they know he can hear

he has to hear

is that safe?

shutting his mind

resolving to let no one slip in again

only to wreak havoc on himself

is that safe?

he knows it's not

and yet . . .

the armor is donned

tarnished, dully gleaming, dented

still functional

still he wears a mask

so no one can ever wound him

like they can

like they have

like they will

just another example of the danger of love

love can do terrifying things

make you ready to give up your life

and then it is just carelessly tossed aside

with a few simple words

distrust, disgust, distaste

that is what they think of

when they think of him

ugly, mean, stupid, cruel, faggot

he is the boy of death, after all

how could he be anything

but wrong?

a monster?

he preys on the weak

death, death, death

and feeds on the strength it gives him

death, death, death

at least

according to the campers

what did they do to deserve this? they say

incredulously viewing the monster

the monster they have created

monster

the word burns like ice

monster

he blinks back tears

monster

he is getting stronger now

monster

his eyes snap open

clear and bright

cold and lost

monster

their voices fade

they cannot hurt her now

he cannot imagine ever needing them

or so he tells himself

monster

how will he ever smile again?

a fake smile curves his lips

practice makes perfect

he is perfect at disguise

a master, an expert

he can survive

he will survive

he will thrive

he will die inside

but he will appear to live

appear to smile

appear to laugh, to love

what will living a life of lies

do to a soul?

only one way to find out

mine has been fine so far,

he insists to himself

quelling the shaking in his hands

I am still alive, he says

but as he speaks the words

as they leap from his tongue

like falcons diving into flight

he knows it is false

you can hear it in his voice

a husk of a human being

is not a human

I am not human, he concludes

and is surprised by how empty he feels

numb

nothing at all

what a big surprise

he welcomes the emptiness

tells it to make itself home

it is better than sorrow

than heartbreak

than betrayal

than loss

than anger

than guilt

than pent-up words never to be spoken

is it really?

he knows it's killing him

is it better?

does he care?

does he want it to?

maybe.

like a drug, he welcomes it

lets it take away the pain

give him some sleep tonight

for once

the pills are white and perfect

disappearing off the counter

he wonders if it will hurt

and then decides it doesn't matter

for it will all be over.

let his mind rest

his body sleep  
>at peace<p>

finally

but what is peace?

something good

so it must have nothing to do with him

for he is a monster

eyes closed against the light

a monster

resting on a bed of white

waiting for the end

he knows,

he thinks drowsily,

brain muddled and unfocused

it is what they say

and

they

are

never

w

r

o

n

g

.


End file.
